Matryoshka
by VioletLolitaPop
Summary: In 1995, a 15 year old boy goes missing from his home. In 2001, two brothers are forced onto the path of discovering why.
1. Chapter 1

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It's become something of a ritual since they've both moved out so far away from home. With Matthew attending the local University, and Alfred working what he can to pay for rent and his own lifestyle, the Jones twins make it a point to enjoy breakfast together at a favorite diner for the both of them every Friday morning. Even if they had seen or spoken to each other the day before, without fail, Matthew will pick Alfred up from his apartment and away they would go.

This week, after their meal and on their way back to Alfred's place, they had both spotted a large sign on the corner of an intersection announcing an estate sale. With Matthew's classes and Alfred's next shift not starting for another couple of hours, they both agreed to check it out and see if there would be anything worth buying.

It's been entertaining, at least.

"What d'you think? Can I pull it off?"

Matthew turns away from the stack of books piled high on the shelves above the bookcase with a paper reading 'SOLD' taped to the front. What he sees is his brother in front of the opened closet wearing a jacket that is clearly too small for him if the way he struggles to move his arms about is anything to go by.

"David Banner," Matthew deadpans, "I just slashed your tires."

All at once, Alfred drops his arms and rolls his eyes.

"You're a fucking idiot," he says and struggles out of the jacket.

"Says the Strong Man wrestling with two yards of denim."

"I need a new jacket."

"And that's fine and all, but how 'bout lookin' somewhere where the size options are something other than a kid's small?"

"It says it's a large."

Matthew only laughs. His attention goes back to the books and starts picking the ones he wants.

"Anyway, isn't it kinda weird or something?" he asks.

"Why would it be weird?"

"'Cause, y'know, wearing a dead kid's clothes and all that."

"Not dead," Alfred corrects and hangs the jacket back up. He starts to go through the clothes once more, the small clinking of wire hangers accompany his words. "Just missing."

"Missing since '95, that kid's dead."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Matt, what did the Internet do to you?"

Matthew rolls his eyes this time. "Ditch your friends once to spend a Saturday on-line and everyone thinks you're an Internet junkie."

"I don't know, man, I mean, every time I try to call I get a busy signal. Something's tying up your phone."

"Maybe I got a girlfriend."

Alfred laughs.

"Oh, fuck off."

Alfred only laughs harder, right up until he gives up his search through the leftovers still hanging inside the closet. "All of this stuff reminds me of what we used to wear in middle school."

"Again, kid went missing in '95. At least that's what the chick managing the cash box said."

"And here you are pillaging through his stuff."

"You're the one that wanted to wear his clo- oh, hey. Come check this out."

Alfred comes to his brother's side in only a few short steps. What Matthew holds in his hand is a single photo that shows the simple image of an older man, an older woman, and a young boy somewhere between the age of thirteen or fourteen with a mess of dark blond hair and large blue eyes. The entire family is wearing matching red sweaters with a large green Christmas tree on the front of each one. They all show the same shy smile and at the bottom in white scripted font reads: _Merry Christmas from The Galante Family, 1994._

"Where'd you find this?" Alfred asks.

"It was in one of the books. I was just flipping through the pages and it fell out."

"Hmm..."

Neither twin is able to word what goes through their mind at the moment. Even so, they both think the same thing. 1994, one year before the disappearance of the young teen in front of them when they themselves must have been no older than twelve. How odd, to think that they were living so carelessly and happily in the days of their own youth when this boy had either run away or had been taken, kidnapped, maybe even murdered. While they sat down to family dinners and celebrated birthdays and holidays, how often did his parents stay up on sleepless nights and wonder about their missing son?

"What d'you think happened to him?" Alfred asks.

"I don't know," says Matthew. He carefully places the photo back on the shelf near some figurines and small knick-knacks. "I don't wanna take that with me. Doesn't feel right."

"But you'll take his books."

"Hey, these aren't personal," Matthew says as he loads up his arms with his choices. "This is just like going to a used bookstore."

"Whatever you say, bro."

Alfred is just about ready to leave the room. They had already gone through the rest of the house, had already fought with the crows fathered picking through the remains of a familial home that has some six years after a tragedy. They way he figures, they're just about done here, they should just go back to the front of the house and buy the books Matthew wants.

He chances a look back at the photo, morbid curiosity he supposes. When he does, something else catches his eye. It's a little big, which is probably the reason he noticed it. A plump and curvaceous wooden knick-knack painted to look like a person with very pale hair, some lovely shaped eyes colored purple, and a small smile. A scarf is painted around its neck, it falls down the length of a tan coat and is only separated by a line cut through the middle.

Alfred picks it up and immediately pulls it apart. What he finds is another doll, a girl this time with long pale hair, wearing a ribbon, and a fierce looking scowl.

"How cool!" he says. "A little creepy, but still pretty cool."

He elbows his brother as they both leave the room.

"What does mom call these things?" he asks. "Babushkas or something?"

"I think they're just called nesting dolls, but yeah. Yeah, she would call them that."

"I'm gonna get it for her. Easy Christmas shopping."

Matthew shakes his head. "Can't believe you're the favorite."

"I know, right? I'm just naturally awesome or something."

"That's the part where you're supposed to deny it."

"Why deny the truth?"

"Dear Lord, give me strength. You ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's get out of here."

They navigate their way back to the front door easily. Most of the people coming to the sale are in the backyard or dining room, looking through the left over pickings. The master bedroom and office having already been cleared, the only room left untouched had been the boy's room. And for understandable reasons, not many had gone there. They both pay without much trouble and are sitting Matthew's car in no time at all.

"Where am I dropping you off?" he asks.

"My place, I guess," says Alfred. He takes a quick glance at his watch and notices that it's close to his shift. "I gotta get my bike soon, unless you feel like picking me up from work after class?"

"My last class gets out at nine today."

"Wanna hang around the place for an extra hour after closing?"

"Can't say I want to."

"You're such a dick."

After Matthew leaves him in front of his apartment complex, Alfred makes his way to his own tiny home. It takes him all of ten minutes, and even less time to set down the stack of dolls he's bough on the nearest surface and take up his bike. There's no time to further inspect the rest of the dolls that must be inside, having to get himself to work will take a little longer and he really should leave now.

He's back out the door, and goes on with his day.

By the time he comes back home, it's late into the night. He's exhausted and ready to sleep, but doesn't have the strength to make it to his bed. Instead, he falls onto the sofa near the front door, barely able to toe off his shoes. He falls asleep in seconds.

Though it's more of a cat nap, because only some two hours later, Alfred stirs back awake. The VCR above his television blinks _12:00_ and is no use to him as far as figuring out how late it is. He's never been able to figure out how to program the damn thing and frankly doesn't care enough to ever. If anything, it at least gives off a little light that shows the safe way to his bedroom, which is where he figures he should actually be if he wants any real rest. So with that in mind, he sits up and rubs at his eyes from beneath his glasses.

Even with the small glow of light the room is still too dark, and he is still too groggy, so he isn't able to notice how each of the nesting dolls has been removed from the inside of the largest one, and each one stands separate from one another in a neat circle on the coffee table in front of him.

He gets up from the sofa, stumbles around the living room with heavy footsteps and finally makes it to his bedroom door. He doesn't hear the soft sobs at first. It isn't until he swings the door open, they crying grows louder, and he blinks through blurred vision and smudged glasses to see the slight figure of a young teen with messy dark blond hair sitting on the edge of his bed.

He's huddled into himself, his arms covered in a loose jacket and wrapped around his torso as if he was comforting himself as his back stutters in a rise and fall with each small cry. Eventually, the figure looks up at Alfred, large watery blue eyes stare at him as fat teardrops roll down his cheeks.

"I want to go home," he cries. "I want to see my mom and dad. I wanna go home!"

The whole time, Alfred is rooted to the spot. He doesn't even start until a piercing wail follows his words. He ends up slamming the door shut, breathing heavily to the beat of his pounding heart, and can honestly say that he has never been more terrified in all of his life.

Because that was a ghost, right? That was definitely a ghost, how could it have been anything other, he's seen the movies, read everything about them when he went through his Blair Witch phase, that was definitely a ghost!

He slowly backs away from the door, walks backwards until there's some small space in between it and him. It feels like it takes forever and an age for him to calm down, and at least another few for him to realize that there is no longer any crying. Everything is quiet.

Despite his instinct to keep away, Alfred approaches the door again. His hand is paused on the door knob and he holds his breath as he swings it open once more.

The room is dim, the bed a mess. Clothes are everywhere and there's a waste basket overflowing with trash. But it is empty, there is no one else there.

The breath he's held comes out in one big relieved sigh and he sags against the door frame. There is nothing here. There is nothing here. There is nothing... here.

So what was that? Was he still half-dreaming? It was a busy day and he'd been exhausted so... like, sleep walking? He'll have to ask Matthew about it later then. It probably had a lot to do with all that talk about the kid missing at the estate sale. Yeah, it even looked a little like him from the picture, it must have just come out of nowhere from his imagination or something. Yeah, that must be it...

He tells himself all of this over and over again. He has to in order to believe it. When he feels he's finally calmed and okay, Alfred closes the door.

He decides to fall back asleep on the couch.

**xxx**

Disclaimer: It's true, there's room for you.

-i love halloween.

-three part deal, next chapter comes out the 13th.

-stay shiny, stay lovely, thanks for reading. xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

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"It's times like this I wished we still lived together."

Alfred stretches out entirely on his back on top of Matthew's sofa. He'd plan to come over first thing after the end of his mid-morning shift and was not surprised when he received a busy signal when he received a busy signal when he tried to call. Still, all it meant was that his brother is at home and there was no problem in showing up at his door.

"We would have been living together," Matthew calls out to him from the kitchen. "If you had just come out with me when I first left home instead of following me out here without telling anyone."

"I'm a romantic," says Alfred. He rolls off of the sofa and onto the floor with a thud. "All I thought about was how amazing our reunion was going to be. We were gonna take off into an awesome hug, fireworks were gonna go off, a panda was gonna knock out a penguin-"

"That's not romantic anymore, that's the dream you had when we were five."

"No," Alfred argues and strolls right towards the kitchen. "The dream I had when we were five was us in the school bus when the dinosaurs attacked."

"Whichever. It's still a dream."

The kitchen isn't large enough for the two of them to fit comfortably. Though Alfred is content to lean against the door frame and watch his brother prepare their dinner.

"And honestly," Matthew continues, "I think what happened to you last night was a dream."

"You think?"

"Do you really want it to be a ghost?"

"No."

"Well then there you go. If you don't believe something's there, then there's nothing there to hurt you."

Alfred looks less than impressed with this summation. "Yeah, okay… but what if there's an ax-murderer in your back seat? Just cos you don't believe there can't be one there doesn't rule out the possibility of there ever being one."

Matthew groans and tosses some diced veggies into a sauté pan. "Do you want the damn ghost to be there or what?"

"No!"

"Alright then, Schrodinger, shut the fuck up."

Alfred sighs heavily and sags against the frame. It calls Matthew's attention and as his twin looks so helpless and haggard by last night's events, he sighs to himself.

"Okay," he says. "Do you wanna know what I think? Like, honestly?"

This perks Alfred up. He straightens out and gives Matthew his full attention.

"Honestly," Matthew says, "I think you were exhausted from work, still a bit obsessed with the whole Blair Witch thing, and still thinking about the kid that went missing. You haven't had any problems before, so why now? It was just a dream, Alfred."

With that, Matthew turns back to the stove and fives Alfred something to think about. It's true that since the Blair Witch phenomenon he has had this inclination for the supernatural. And it's true, that his shift had been particularly extra tiring. He doesn't remember how many spilled drinks he cleaned, and then there was the _toddler incident_. Honestly, some parents are worse than their kids…

While Alfred loses himself in the memory of an awful work day, Matthew finishes off their meal. He only bothers to disrupt Alfred's reminiscing when their plates are served and ready to be eaten. Their dinner goes by with the two of them in front of the TV while they eat. All conversation of ghosts and the like are not brought up again. By the time Alfred leaved and bikes his way back home, he's nearly forgotten all about last night.

So it takes him by surprise when he enters his apartment when he enters his apartment and an icy gust comes at him in greeting. His breath turns into white clouds of cold and while swearing under his breath, Alfred makes his way to the thermostat. What he sees is remarkable; it's a normal temperature of 70 degrees in this small one-bedroom apartment, and he's left with no option other than to believe that it's broken. There's just no way.

He slaps his hand against it, huffs out another cold breath of air and turns around sharply.

And is greeted with the sight of a simple looking boy with glasses and a narrow face. His expression is hidden by the dark blond hair falling over his eyes and for the longest time he remains bent over in his seat. Alfred is once again frozen in fear and is able to do nothing more than watch as this other ghostly apparition toys with a small figure on his coffee table.

It's then that he realizes the little wooden dolls are separated from one another, placed in a circle and he's able to notice just how many of them there are. It seems intimidating for some reason. Alfred doesn't know, but he does not ignore the instinct to back away. His footsteps are slow and it isn't until he hits up against the wall that the other says something to him.

"He's watching you," he says, and he finally raises his head to look at Alfred. "He's already watching you. I would be worried, if I were in your place."

Alfred feels a lump in his throat that he can't quite speak around. His eyes start to burn at the edges and he's forced to close them before he actually starts crying.

"Who-who are you?" he manages to ask, but he receives no reply.

When he does open his eyes again, he's entirely alone.

There's no hesitation, Alfred races for his telephone and dials Mathew's number. There's no describing the joy he feels when it actually rings for once.

"'_Lo?"_ comes his brother's voice from the other line and again, Alfred dives straight into the conversation.

"You need to get over here, right now! I swear to god, Matt, I can't fuckin' do this alone, I need you to come over here. Like, right now!"

"_What the- Alfred?"_

"Yes! Matthew, pleeaaase, get over here!"

"_Alright, calm down. I'll be over there soon."_

There's no goodbyes, Alfred drops the call first and hangs up without another word.

This is too weird for him, this is just too damn weird. He had never seen this guy before so what excuse can be made for this a second time? He doesn't know, and he certainly doesn't know what to do. Alfred swipes at his face with his hands and groans. When he finally feels somewhat composed, he finds that the temperature is slowly returning to normal and his head is a little clearer. It's then that he notices the dolls again, and desperate for anything likely to explain this mess, he approaches them.

He doesn't remember placing them like this. He honestly can't even say he bothered to look at each one which… is actually a lot of them. Nine in total, and that doesn't seem right. It just seems like there is too many, even to him, a person with no previous encounter with nesting dolls.

Alfred avoids the couch. Instead, he crouches in front of the table and turns each one towards him, from largest to smallest. They all differ from one another, though the smaller they get, the more modern the look in both paint and detail. He reaches the second smallest and when he turns it towards him, he feels a creeping sense of dread settle at the bottom of his stomach.

Dark blond hair that reaches his eyes in perfectly leveled bangs, small mouth set in a stern little line, and green eyes he now recognizes peering at him from behind painted glasses.

"No fuckin' way," he mutters to himself and reaches for the last.

His heart nearly stops when he see it for the first time.

The little doll is painted wearing a dusty red jacket, has a mop of messy blond hair, and light blue eyes with tears painted right at the corners. His mouth is caught in mid-wail, and it's more of a stab of grief that hits him rather fear.

What the hell is this? He doesn't know what kind of explanation is behind this, but he does know that this is far beyond coincidental. He can only hope when Matthew shows up they can figure to out together.

Unfortunately, when Matthew does show up, he has no idea of his own.

"This is trippy," he says.

"No shit."

"Shut up."

Alfred hasn't moved the dolls since he first inspected them. They all stand in the exact same position, now only disturbed as Matthew carefully lifts up the smallest one to get a closer look.

"It does kind of look like the kid," he says.

"Yes, 'cause I'm pretty sure that is the kid!"

"Okay, I get this is weird and everything but you're really gonna have to calm down."

"Yeah you can say that 'cause you're not the one who saw this shit. Twice!"

Matthew doesn't reply. Instead, he sets the doll down and looks them all over.

"Which one's the other one that you saw?" he asks.

"That one," says Alfred and points to the second smallest. "The one with the 80's mop top."

Just like the last one, Matthew lifts it up and brings it close.

"If… If the little one is the missing kid, or has to do with the ghost you saw, then wouldn't that mean this whoever this guy is.. is missing too?"

"So how're we supposed to find out who he is?"

"Maybe we can find something on the Internet? Old news articles or something?"

Alfred plucks the figure out from Matthew's fingers. He takes a good look at the clothing; collared shirt under a hideous sweater with bright colors and too many shapes. It isn't just his hair that is an 80's throwback.

"Would we be able to fine anything?"

"For the kid, maybe. For this guy… I dunno. Depends on when he went missing I guess. Might be able to, but if anything we'll just check out if the library here has like, a newspaper archive or something."

"Yeah, maybe."

It goes quiet.

"Do you have work tomorrow?"

"Um… yeah. In the morning. I'm off at the twelve. What about you?"

Matthew shakes his head. "I'm free all day.

"So.. we start when I get off then?"

"Yeah. The sooner the better."

Having his brother helping him out has Alfred feel tremendously better. Still…

"Will…" he starts off and already Matthew looks at him with some concern. "Will you stay here tonight?"

There's no hesitation, although Matthew does kind of laugh. "Yes, sure."

Alfred immediately says in relief. "Oh thank god, I was gonna beg to stay with you if you said no."

"You're so stupid," Matthew laughs and a yawn follows. "Although, hey, it may just be because I'm really just too tired to leave."

"You're such an asshole… You gonna need some clothes to change in to?"

"If you got any."

"I should. C'mon, let's see what I got."

He sets the little doll down and ushers Matthew into the bedroom with him. Things start to feel normal again, and as they lays to sleep, it's as if this is just another sleep over for them. Just another night, without anything out of the ordinary occurring.

Of course, for Alfred it's easier as he's more prone to move on as things occur. Matthew on the other hand, is still very aware of what's been happening. Which is probably why, when being the first to wake up the next morning, he is not completely caught off guard by who he finds sitting at the bar next to Alfred's kitchen.

She's a fairly young woman, with long brown hair and flowers woven into it for decoration on one side. She wears a crocheted crop top and high-waist bell bottom jeans. She doesn't look at him. She doesn't acknowledge him at all.

"I just wanted to find him," she says and is barely loud enough for Matthew to hear. "I just wanted to be a good friend."

Matthew swears under his breath and races back into the bedroom. He calls out for Alfred to wake up, even half-drags him out of bed and into the living room. Though by the time he's done all that, she's already gone.

"What?" Alfred is asking, only half-awake and near blind without his glasses on. "What's happening? Matthew?"

Matthew can only sigh and fall against the wall.

"I think things just got a little more complicated."

**xxx**

-almost didn't make it ;A;


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